


Truth or Dare

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Embarrassment, First Kiss, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Indulgent, Trapped In A Closet, Truth or Dare, Unresolved Tension, abusing pathfinder for gay inner dialogue, as god gygax and jrrt intended, hamid is possessive and zolf is down with that, i think eddie and grzzop should be frends, resolved tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Bertie doesn't notice Zolf's loud,"Hey!"Bertie doesn't notice Hamid's panicked and embarrassed yelp.Bertie doesn't notice the sound of a closet door slamming shut and locking from the outside.Bertiedoesnotice Sasha walking quickly toward him, meeting him at the door to the suite. "All ready, young lady?""Yup," answers Sasha, practically shoving him out the door, "let's go, like, right now! And not come back for a while! Did you say something about dinner?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'm just thinking about The Buried, and that's why i haven't been able to get the idea of "very small, tight, dark spaces" out of my head. and, obvs, i'm never able to stop thinking about These Idiot Men, so. tada. recommended listening (because I was listening to it on repeat while writing this and it's a fun song, not because it has any real bearing on the story's enjoyment) : Truth or Dare by Marianas Trench. Working Title: _sasha just wants her friends to be happy_

Sasha is very nice to her friends. Really. They’re lucky to have her. “...and then _I_ said, ‘well, I suppose we can always _share_ the Chardonnay’!” Bertie laughs outrageously at his own (bad) joke. Sasha takes a long, _long_ draft of her drink. Sasha is so very nice to her friends, and they had better appreciate it.

The worst thing is, she doesn’t even have Hamid here to be distracting. Or Zolf to commiserate with about how obnoxious Bertie is. Or anyone reliable to tell her about what exactly the words on the menu mean. It’s awful. All Sasha’s got is a tiny fork and a blunt knife and an upper-crust idiot sitting across the table from her, ordering the wine list. Not a list of the wines. The wines on the list.

(Sasha is very nice to her friends, and she’s pretty sure they’re too busy with each other to properly enjoy all she’s sacrificed to give them this.)

\---

Zolf slumps against the wall opposite the closet door that Hamid’s so hung up on. “She can’t have seriously locked us in here and gone to dinner with Bertie,” Hamid repeats for the third time. He didn’t sound like he believed it the first time, and the doubt in his voice has only grown from there. “She doesn’t even _like_ Bertie!” He rattles the doorknob some more. Unsurprisingly, it remains locked.

Zolf scoffs. “She likes food,” he counters. Hamid doesn’t turn around to look at him, too busy being distressed with the door. (Which… it’s not a _bad_ view, even if Zolf does immediately feel guilty about looking.) “I just don’t know why she decided we should get locked in a closet before they left.” He’s lying through his teeth. Zolf knows _exactly_ why she did it, but hell if he’s going to admit that out loud if Hamid hasn’t figured it out by himself. Cramped space and an idiot with a crush can only lead to good things, right? Zolf understands Sasha’s mental math, but he certainly doesn’t like it.

Hamid groans and lets his head thunk against the door.

\---

Bertie, after a whole bottle of some fancy wine, isn’t actually that bad! Like, yeah, he’s awful, just the worst, obviously. But he’s _really easy_ to get riled up, and it’s a good source of entertainment. Currently, Sasha’s set him off about the state of cutlery in France. It’s fiddlesticking _hilarious._ She’s actually pretty sure that they’re about two more sentences away from getting kicked out.

Sasha starts shovelling the rest of her food into her mouth before that can happen.

\---

Zolf is very lucky he’s not as claustrophobic as he used to be. He still is a little bit, but not enough for the closet’s lack of space to give him a panic attack. So that’s good. Little victories. Hamid huffs and asks, “How much longer do you think they’ll be?” 

Zolf counts off on his fingers. (There’s probably enough dim light coming in from under the door that Hamid can see him doing so.) “Well, it’s Bertie’s money and Sasha’s appetite, so probably at least a week.” Hamid rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. 

Little victories.

\---

“I’m sure Hamid is lonely,” says Bertie.

Damnit, Sasha just started having fun. It’s only been, like, fortyish minutes. Hamid’s too embarrassed and Zolf’s too oblivious for anything to have happened in only fortyish minutes. “Nah,” Sasha covers, “nah, I’m sure he’s fine. Do you wanna get desserts?” Bertie lights up at that, and Sasha pats herself on the back for a job well done at distracting the big idiot.

She’ll give them an hour. It’s a small closet, even if they’re both small people. Something has to happen if you’re stuck in a small space with someone you think is pretty for an hour.

\---

“Huh,” says Zolf.

“What?” Hamid asks, defensive.

Zolf shrugs. Not that Hamid can see, with his lack of darkvision, but he can probably hear Zolf’s shirt rustling. “Nothing, I just– I didn’t realise how small you were until right now.” Hamid seems larger than life, most of the time. Bright suits and bright eyes and a bright outlook that makes him noticeable. Makes him hard to miss.

Hamid frowns. He argues, “I’m not _that_ small.” Zolf laughs, and Hamid scowls.

“Yeah, you are.” Hamid’s scowl deepens, and Zolf tries to keep all of the goopy emotion out of the smile he gives the halfling in return. (Not that Hamid could see it. Colours are starting to fade from Zolf’s vision, which means that Hamid’s eyes probably aren’t working too well.) “I mean– give me your hand.” Hamid blinks at him before slowly (blindly) giving Zolf his hand. Zolf matches them up, presses their palms together. Hamid’s hand falls just short of reaching up to Zolf’s fingertips.

“Your hand is _freezing.”_

Zolf grins at him. “And also bigger than yours. Because you’re small.” Hamid glares. He doesn’t move back, though, his palm still pressing against Zolf’s. (It’s possible Zolf didn’t think this through. The way his chest tightens like not-really-holding Hamid’s hand is something to thrill at is the main piece of evidence supporting that possibility.) He’s just going to draw back when Hamid places Zolf’s hand between both of his own. “Uh?” says Zolf, because this is very rapidly going off-script.

Hamid raises his eyebrows like Zolf is an idiot. “I’m warming you up,” he says as if it’s the obvious explanation.

Hamid’s hands _are_ very warm, and the heat sinks in through Zolf’s skin. It feels kind of nice. “Right,” he manages, “right, yeah. Okay.” 

\---

Sasha looks at a clock on the wall of the bakery and almost spits out her espresso. “Uh, should we be getting back? Now? Maybe?” she suggests, and Bertie scoffs.

(They’ve been gone for an hour and a half. Sasha feels guilty about an hour and a half.)

Bertie assures her, “Of course not, young lady! The night’s just getting started! I'm fairly sure there’s a bar around here somewhere with plenty of suspicious dark corners!” Sasha knows he’s just baiting her, finding an excuse to stay out and get drunk, but. Well. Suspicious dark corners _are_ Sasha’s preferred terrain…

Just another half hour couldn’t hurt, right?

\---

Hamid sighs. He’s holding Zolf’s left hand, now, and Zolf can feel his right losing all the heat it just gained. “Truth or dare?” Hamid blinks up at him. Zolf pulls his gaze up from Hamid’s perfectly-manicured nails (the only safe thing to look at that isn’t a wall) to his face to explain, “I’m bored, and I don’t think you can see well enough to play I-Spy. So. Truth or dare.” Hamid stares at him blankly. “Or we could just keep sitting like this in silent darkness. That’s plenty entertaining.” Hamid huffs a laugh, a soft smile stretching across his face. 

(There’s no light coming in from underneath the closet door anymore. Everything’s monochrome. It’s probably night and definitely too dark for Hamid to see the affection in Zolf’s eyes, so Zolf doesn’t bother hiding it for once.)

“Dare,” answers Hamid, and Zolf doesn’t know what he expected.

(Hamid’s predictable, and it’s endearing. Or maybe Zolf is just hopeless. Probably both.)

Zolf takes his hand back and shifts his ring around his finger. “Alright.” The ring is still warm. “I dare you to… to tell off Sasha when she finally lets us out.” It’s the only thing he can think of. Hamid laughs again, and he’s close enough that Zolf can see he has a dimple on his right cheek. 

“I was planning on that already. Your turn.”

Zolf settles back into his corner. “Truth.”

Hamid purses his lips, clearly racking his brain for something to ask. “What is it that you’re always reading?” Is what he finally settles on, and Zolf tenses.

“Uh.” Hamid probably wouldn’t judge him, right? He’s fair– who’s Zolf kidding, of course, Hamid would judge him. “It’s a book series I found in Dover.”

Hamid cocks his head. “How’d you find a book series in a jail?”

“Truth or dare?” Zolf asks because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself like that, thanks. 

Hamid squints. “Zolf.”

“One question per round. Truth or dare?”

Hamid squints harder, but he eventually leans back and chooses, “Truth.”

“Can you put on your eyeliner without magic?”

“Yes, but not nearly as neatly. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Hamid points an accusatory finger at him. (Near him.) “You’re just saying that so you don’t have to talk about the books.” He’s not wrong, but hell if Zolf is going to admit it.

 _“Dare,”_ he repeats instead. 

Huffily, Hamid relents, “Fine. I…” A delighted smirk crosses his face. He leans in and says, “I dare you to give Bertie a compliment.”

“You’re a monster,” Zolf tells him flatly.

Hamid beams at him. (He’s too cute to be a monster.) “Dare,” he says before Zolf can ask.

“I dare you to admit I was right about something.”

“About what?”

“Your choice.”

Hamid thinks. Slowly, he says, “You were right. I’ve been a monster all along.” He grins maniacally, obviously attempting an impression of some mad villain, “I’ve been playing the long con, and it’s worked to perfection.” He taps his fingertips together in the classic _look at me scheming evilly_ fashion.

Zolf bursts out into laughter, and Hamid giggles with him. He’s _far_ too cute to be a monster.

\---

It’s been a lot longer than half an hour. Sasha tugs ineffectually at Bertie’s wrist, desperately attempting to get back to the suite. “Come _on,_ Bertie!” Bertie continues drunkenly stumbling in the opposite direction. Sasha groans. Leave someone in a cramped space with someone they like for an hour, and something has to happen. Leave two people in a cramped space for nearly three hours, and murder is inevitable. 

She hopes there aren’t any scorch marks in the closet when they finally get back.

\---

Hamid yawns. He rubs at his eyes and answers, “Truth.”

“Are you tired?” It wasn’t what Zolf was going to ask. 

Hamid nods, smiling sleepily. “Mmhm.” There’s a beat of silence as Zolf stares at him, taking everything in. Colours aren’t visible in the darkness, but Hamid still looks beautiful in black-and-white. (That’s way too sappy; Zolf’s going to pretend he didn’t think that.) Hamid pokes Zolf’s knee gently, reminding, “Your turn.”

Zolf smiles at him. It’s uncomfortably close to fond. “Truth.” Hamid attempts to look him in the face, but his eyes are a little too far to the left.

He asks, “Are _you_ tired?” His voice is gentle, (if a little sleep-rough) and the feeling in Zolf’s chest is so goddamn warm. Like affection. Like fondness. Like– like something he’s not going to name. He’s not going to think about it. 

Zolf shrugs. “Kinda, yeah.”

Hamid smiles at him, eyes squinting closed happily, and then he’s silent for a moment. His head falls slightly, but it jerks up again as Hamid’s eyes flutter back open; he seems about two seconds from passing out. Zolf quietly asks, “Truth or dare?” 

Hamid doesn’t stop to think.  
“Dare.”  
He’s so predictable. 

“Come here,” Zolf instructs before he can talk himself out of it.

Hamid doesn’t open his eyes. He cocks his head slightly and (hums vaguely) asks, “Hm?”

Zolf reaches out, grabs Hamid’s hand in his own and tugs. “Just– here, come closer.” Hamid’s brow furrows in confusion, but he does as he’s told, shuffling closer until Zolf can pull him in.

Hamid makes an undignified squeak when he’s pulled down onto Zolf’s chest. “Zolf, what—”

“Dare you to go to sleep,” Zolf cuts across, like maybe if he gets his justification out quickly enough, Hamid won’t ask too many questions. This was a bad idea, this was _such_ a bad idea, why did Zolf think this would go over well?

Hamid shakes in a near-silent laugh, and the tension drains from him as he makes himself comfortable against Zolf. (Oh, that’s not good for Zolf’s heart.) Hamid’s really touchy, he probably doesn’t care about this much physical contact. This probably doesn’t register as an absurd amount of vulnerability to him. (This is the stupidest, softest thing Zolf’s ever done, and as soon as Sasha lets them out, he’s going to bottle it up with the rest of the stupid, soft things he’s wanted to do.) Hamid mumbles, “Mmph.” His head lists slightly to the side, leaning against Zolf’s collarbone. “Truth or dare?” 

“That doesn’t sound conducive to sleeping.”

“S’your turn.”

Zolf is completely hopeless. “Fine. Truth.”

Hamid shifts a bit, trying to get closer, as though he’s not already so close that the world seems a couple hundred degrees warmer. He asks, “Do you like cuddling?” and Zolf nearly chokes on air.

That’s– he’s _not–_ this is the _worst_ question Hamid possibly could have asked. Zolf has to clear his throat before he can slowly, carefully say, “...that’s not what I’m doing.” Because it’s not! He’s just– he didn’t want Hamid to have to sleep on the closet floor. That’s all.

Shut up.

Hamid pokes his knee. “But if it was, would that be okay?” Zolf thinks, _as long as it’s you,_ but his filter hasn’t stopped working quite yet. (It’s working overtime, making sure he doesn’t accidentally say anything that might make Hamid notice. If he hasn’t noticed already, because Zolf is letting the halfling use him as a goddamn pillow. _God,_ Zolf is hopeless.)

“If I trust the person, I don’t mind.”

Hamid pokes him again. “But do you _like_ it?” 

“You’re very persistent,” Zolf says instead of answering.

“You’re very avoiding,” Hamid retorts. 

There’s a long moment of silence before Zolf mutters, “I guess it’s nice,” because if he says anything more specific, he might actually die. Hamid shuffles away, and for half a second Zolf thinks he’s going to move back to his side of the closet. But then he just turns and lays back down closer, curled into Zolf’s lap. _(This is fine.)_ “Truth or dare?” Zolf rushes out, because this is _so bad_ for his heart, and maybe talking will distract him.

“Truth.”

“You don’t mind this, do you?”

“Mm-mn.”

“Mm-mn you don’t mind? Or mm-mn you _do?”_

Hamid laughs again, and it doesn’t do anything embarrassing to Zolf’s insides. “I don’t mind. You’re comfortable.” _(This is fine, this is fine, everything’s fine.)_ “Your turn.”

Zolf doesn’t think he can handle any more questions. “Dare.” Hamid gropes blindly and finds Zolf’s wrist before making Zolf drape an arm around his waist. He hums contentedly, and that’s fine, that’s totally alright, Zolf doesn’t feel like this is something breathtakingly dangerous, and his heart doesn’t attempt to beat out of his throat. Hamid doesn't say anything, so Zolf asks, “Do you wanna keep playing?” Hamid doesn’t answer for a while, and Zolf thinks he’s already asleep.

But then he murmurs, “Mm-mn. Can you just talk?” Zolf makes a wordless noise of confusion. (Miracle of all miracles, it doesn’t sound strangled.) Hamid swallows before quietly explaining, “I like hearing your voice.”

(Zolf might have preferred the embarrassing questions, actually. The embarrassing questions can be avoided and carefully talked around. The soft tone of Hamid’s voice is going to echo, unavoidably and inevitably, in his head forever. Until he dies. Which he might very soon, due to mortification.)

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Hamid whispers like it’s something he’s only just realised. 

Zolf suddenly wishes he’d thought this stupid plan through. It’s too late now, though, so Zolf just says, “Huh. I– what should I talk about?” Hamid hums again, _I don’t know,_ and settles his head more heavily on Zolf’s chest. 

Which.  
Is fine. 

Zolf racks his brain for some subject to talk about, hoping his voice can drown out the sound of his too-fast pulse.

\---

Bertie faceplants into his bed with minimal prompting. Sasha immediately sprints to the small closet. “Oh! My god! I’m so sorry! I had _no idea_ you two were in here,” she announces loudly as she unlocks the door. She winces at how stilted and fake her voice sounds, but she doesn’t know how to feign her shock better. “Let me get you out! I’m so sorr– oh.” They’re asleep. Like, mostly curled around each other, and sleeping. It’d be _cute,_ if Sasha used words like that, or thought that falling asleep while touching someone else in a dark room you have no possible escape from was anything near a smart decision.

As it is, Sasha pokes Hamid with her foot. “Mmph,” he groans, “no.” Sasha pokes him again, and he rumbles threateningly. Like a weird dog. She didn’t know he could make such a low noise, what with his usual squeaking. “Mine,” he grumbles.

It’d be _adorable,_ if she used words like that. Maybe even _so adorable it’s sickening._ But Sasha _doesn’t_ use words like adorable, so she just thinks it’s sickening. (She’s not wrong.) “Trust me, I don’t want him.” She nudges Hamid in the side, and he shifts away from her boot. _“Hamid.”_

Hamid rumbles some more. Sasha nudges him some more. _“What,”_ he eventually croaks, sounding ready to Magic Missile her.

“You tell him?”

“Hn?”

“I mean, you two’re all tangled up, so like. You did, right?”

“Wh—” he seems to realise what (who) it is he’s mostly on top of, and he bolts upright, sputtering vaguely, looking between the still-sleeping cleric he’s got a massive crush on and the smug rogue who is _totally_ going to take credit for their getting together— “I! Nothing was! That isn’t! _Sasha why the hell did you lock us in a closet and then abandon us in there for hours?”_

Sasha scrunches up her face at him. 

“S’that a trick question?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> abbegail keeps making fun of me for not making them kiss and i am sick - SICK - of being bullied by a murderer. have a smoochy conclusion where evryones fine except bertie

“Well, this is familiar,” Zolf announces, and Hamid snorts a laugh. Somehow, they’ve ended up in a very small room, with the door locked, and with anyone who could let them out having gone somewhere else. Zolf is the one with both hands on the doorknob, this time, the one trying in vain to open it by sheer force of will.

Hamid puts a hand on his arm to push him ever so slightly out of the way, and Zolf lets himself be pushed. “I could break the door down if you’d like?” Zolf shakes his head, and Hamid takes a step back from the door and further into the hidden room. “More I-Spy, then?”

“Think you need to see, for that.”

“I can.”

“Really?”

Hamid sits down and unclasps his cloak. “I think it has something to do with the draconic heritage? I couldn’t _read_ with it, but I can see you.” Zolf squints at him curiously and then stretches his face out into a horrible mask that Hamid’s seen the twins make at each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. “I can see that too,” Hamid deadpans, and Zolf drops the face, nodding as if he’s uncovered some great mystery, and Hamid giggles.

Sounding like he’s biting back very hard on mortification, “Can you see me blushing?”

“No, but I could have guessed.”

“Right. Great.” Hamid laughs harder, and Zolf gives him a fond, shy smile that Hamid can’t help but return.

* * *

“Think we should check on them?” Cel asks, squishing a piece of pork between two spoons. 

Azu shakes her head. “Sasha said it took them several hours when she tried, and even then, they didn’t actually talk about it.”

* * *

There are embers on Zolf’s lips, but he doesn’t flinch back from them. “Hi,” Hamid whispers, and his eyes are closed but he can see the way Zolf smiles as if the image of it was tattooed on the insides of his eyelids. There are embers on Zolf’s lips, and Hamid is the reason for that, and he’s having a hard time breathing air and not fire.

“Hi,” Zolf whispers back, and his eyes are open, taking in everything he can make out from this close, and Hamid needs to catch his breath. He doesn’t. “Is this alright?” Zolf asks, and the embers spark and glow and vanish into ash as Hamid watches through his blindsight.

The laugh that Hamid lets out is more flame than breath, coals catching in his throat, something like adoration choking him. “I,” he says. “Um,” he says. Zolf presses their foreheads together, his hand coming up to hold the back of Hamid’s neck, rough fingers brushing over rougher scales.

* * *

Cel shrugs as the woman in question comes back to their table with three more drinks. “Yeah, they don’t seem the type to work anything out in a timely manner.” They reach over across the table and down the shot in one smooth motion, almost exactly the same way they drink Haste. “Wonder how the other set of boys are getting on?”

* * *

“No, draw the string all the way back—”  
“It hurts my fingers, Grizzop—”  
“Because you’ve never done it before—”  
“How do I hold the arrow?”  
“I just showed you!”  
“I forgot.”  
 _“Apollo, shine a light—”_  
“That’s not how you pray! You say, ‘oh Apollo, light the path—’”  
“I’m not praying, I’m annoyed. Here, watch my hand again—”

* * *

“I _will_ kill anyone who looks at you like I do,” Hamid warns, just letting Zolf know the dangers, just making sure the cards are on the table, and Zolf smiles like he’s the only person who’s ever been in love. “You’ll have to be just mine.”

Zolf kisses him again, just once, just short, and agrees, “I can be yours.” Hamid can’t help the rumbling purr that finds its way out of his chest, and Zolf’s eyes close as his smile gets even bigger. Even more adoring. His other hand winds its way through Hamid’s hair, his fingernails tracing lightly against his scalp, and the purr gets louder as Hamid leans in for another kiss. “All yours,” Zolf murmurs against his lips, and Hamid’s chest expands with fire and with love and with a sense of rightness that’s impossible to mistake. He should have done this a long, _long_ time ago.

* * *

They have to go home early because Sasha drinks the spiders on accident and starts vomiting up arachnids. She seems fine aside from that, though, chattering excitedly with Cel about the potential concoctions they could make out of many things that Azu is trying not to listen to.

When they get back to their base, an abandoned mansion that Cel spent _weeks_ getting lost in, the hidden room Azu shut and locked Hamid and Zolf in has been exploded open. Zolf is sitting on the couch, reading quietly while Hamid stitches up a blazer. “You’re lucky I didn’t get incinerated,” Zolf grumbles at them, “Hamid nearly blew up the entire room while we were still in it, trying to get out.” Azu gives him an expression of guilty apology, but he ignores it, still reading his book.

(No one notices that Hamid is flushing dark red, or that Zolf has embers in his beard, or that the pair of them are sitting closer together than they usually do.)

(They’ll tell the others eventually, but right now, it’s a secret that belongs only to them.)

(All theirs.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, please hmu on tumble @roswyrm about These Fools, or about rqg in general!! i'm not good at talking, but i'm always down to try!!! i love you!!!!


End file.
